Charlotte picked up her cupcakes and obediently followed Maria. Once they were seated at the petite wooden table, coffee in hand, Maria started chatting.
“How do you keep so slim when you can bake like this?”
“I do a lot of walking.” Charlotte didn’t think she should tell the truth—that her stepmother and stepsisters had often eaten everything she cooked, and some days she’d been so tired all she’d wanted was to fall into bed.
“Have you walked in Cornwell Park?” Maria asked. “It’s beautiful during spring and summer. I always stop to watch the lambs playing. It makes me feel as if I’m in the country instead of living in the middle of a sprawling city.”
“I remember visiting as a child,” Charlotte said. “But I haven’t been there for years.”
“Get Ash to take you during the weekend. Go for a long walk up One Tree Hill and book to have afternoon tea at the kiosk. Very romantic.”
“As long as we tire out the photographers first,” Charlotte said drily. “They chased me today until I got on the bus.”
“The bus? Why didn’t you catch a cab?”
“I didn’t have enough money for a cab,” Charlotte said without thinking.
Maria’s mouth dropped open.
Bother. “I’m not with Ash because of his money.”
A wide beam wreathed Maria’s face. “I’m glad to hear it. Ash deserves someone who values the real him.” She reached over to grasp Charlotte’s hand and squeezed gently. “I’m so pleased for both of you.”
“Ash is special,” Charlotte said, a weird tingly warmth spreading through her as she thought of him.
Maria nodded. “Can you start work tomorrow?”
“I can.”
“Excellent. I’ll show you how to work the cash register before you go.”
“I can stay for a couple of hours today,” Charlotte said.
“Oh, good. I want to redo the window in a spring theme. I’ve been too busy to do it with the fashion parade looming.”
A chime rang out, similar to Big Ben’s peals, but on a smaller scale.
“That will be customers,” Maria said. “Stay and drink your coffee.”
Charlotte finished her coffee and wandered out to the main boutique. An elderly woman limped into the store, her walking stick tapping on the tiled floor as she advanced.
“I need an outfit for my granddaughter’s wedding,” she said. “Something comfortable that will keep me warm. I want something I can wear again, and I suppose I’ll have to get a hat. I hate the things.”
“Hmm,” Charlotte said. “What you need is a dress with a matching jacket or maybe a skirt and matching blouse. Let me ask Maria what she has in stock. Come and take a seat. I promise I’ll only be a moment.” She walked over to Maria. “I need an outfit for a wedding to will suit an older woman. Do you have dresses with matching jackets? And a fascinator. I need a fascinator to match the dress, something conservative yet feminine.”
Ash was already home when Charlotte walked through the front door. A burst of warmth filled her when he smiled—wide and genuine and one she didn’t often see in public. She found herself hastening to close the distance between them, drawn inexorably to him. He laughed, caught her in his arms and swooped in for a kiss. Intense and fulfilling, then lust swept in on the heels of his touch.
He pulled away a fraction, issuing a groan. “I was going to suggest a barbeque for dinner, but I think we’ll go and have a wee nap. I’m feeling tired all of a sudden.”
Charlotte nodded, and he lifted her off her feet, carrying her to his bedroom. Discussions of love didn’t enter the equation as they did decadent things to each other, resulting in much pleasure. They didn’t emerge for a long, long time.
Chapter Thirteen
One month later at Ash’s place of work
Charlotte advanced the page on the screen, pausing to allow Ash and the tattooed biker client to study the cartoon strips she’d sketched in black ink. Between page turns, she wiped her palms down the legs of her black jeans.
“I jotted down some other tie-in concepts.” She was talking too fast, nerves raising her pitch. Charlotte made herself pause for air and blew it out before she started speaking again. “I know it’s more than you requested in the brief, but inspiration struck.”
The two men glanced at each other but didn’t speak, and the desire to flee rose in her. In the end, she’d given Ash brief details of her plans and left it at that, mainly because she wanted to present her suggestions and experience the good and bad of designing freelance firsthand. If the client hated her ideas, she’d scramble for another brainwave. She wiped her hands on her thighs again.
“A super hero and a princess. That’s novel. Why?” The deep frown lines across the client’s forehead scrunched together.
Heck, telling the client she’d done it on a whim while daydreaming about Ash didn’t come close to professional. Nausea tickled the pit of Charlotte’s stomach while her mind scurried for an excuse. “Not long ago I attended a fancy dress ball and saw Zorro on the dance floor with a princess. It occurred to me a super hero would appeal to both sexes as an action figure while the princess would contrast and appeal to girlie girls. The princess could help with scooter sales. I think the cartoon approach is different, and you’d be able to use it as an ongoing sales tool with the pair having different adventures.” As she advanced the page to show the client more cartoons, Ash squeezed her shoulder. She glanced at him, sucking in a breath at the approval glowing in his face. Her breath eased out and some of the fluttering in her stomach subsided.
“Have you drawn more?” the client asked.
Nodding, she handed over a poster-size page of cartoons drawn in vibrant color. She showed him the artist trading cards they could give away in the store.
The client lifted his head, his frown lines smoothing out to mere creases. “This is better than I imagined. I was thinking motorbike photos, maybe with scantily clad models, but these cartoons have more scope. What’s the next step?”
Ash took the lead, planning a schedule with the client and discussing other details from the checklist in front of him.
When Ash showed the client out, another was waiting to see him.
“Won’t be a moment, Ron,” Ash said. “Laura, can you ask one of the assistants to get us coffee please?”
Charlotte’s phone rang. It was Mr. Batchelor, the lawyer. She agreed to a time to see him and hung up, scowling.
“Something wrong?” Ash asked while closing the office door to ensure privacy.
“The lawyer wants to see me again. It’s probably about the bequest from Gran. I’m sure Elizabeth has found a way around the legalities.”
“Would you like me to go with you? I can shift appointments if necessary.”
“Oh! Yes, please,” she said.
Ash nodded, and she could tell he was satisfied with her response. “I want to talk about this campaign.”
“Yes.” A note of caution crept into her voice. He’d liked her ideas—she was sure of it.
“I’m not sure how I feel about my alter ego in an advertising campaign, but your idea is bloody genius.”
“Really?” Pleasure filled her, and she wondered if she’d look silly running a victory lap of his office.
“Really,” he said. “You have no idea how sexy I find your brain.” He drew close and tipped her gaze to his with a fingertip under her chin. “I love you, Charlotte.”
The elation in her settled. Charlotte swallowed hard, yet this time his declaration didn’t scare her as much because each day, in a dozen ways, he demonstrated his feelings. Whether it was a caress or opening a door for her or sheltering her from press attention, she knew he cared for her. “How do you know I’m not after your money?”
He barked out a laugh. “Please, I have to fight to buy you anything.”
“I could be a good actress.”
“I can tell genuine from faux. Besides, you’re always doing stuff for me. Don’t think I haven�
��t noticed the things you do around the house and garden. I know you care for me,” he said with supreme confidence. “One day you’ll give me more. I can wait.”
Wordless, she stood on tiptoe and slanted her lips over his. Talking about love made her nervous. She crossed her fingers behind her back and shoved her foreboding aside. “The meeting with the lawyer is the day after tomorrow at ten.”
“Tell Laura to mark it on my calendar and shift around anything that clashes. Are you working at the boutique this afternoon?”
“Yes, it’s late night. I won’t be home until around nine.”
“I’ll come and pick you up.” He snatched another quick kiss before opening the door to usher in his client.
As Charlotte left via the main office, she couldn’t stop grinning—until she spotted Jenny. Her steps faltered. No, she wouldn’t snub her stepsister. She reformed her smile. “Hi, Jenny.”
Jenny wrinkled her nose as if she’d smelled something bad. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to see Ash.” Instinct kept details of her meeting to herself.
“Are you still living with him? I thought he’d kick you to the curb after the novelty wore thin.”
Charlotte swallowed the snarky comeback trembling at her lips. Some things never changed. “Ash and I have a lot in common,” she said instead. “Are you enjoying working here?” Yay! You own the moral high ground, Ms. Feisty said.
Enthusiasm replaced some of her stepsister’s superior manner. “I love it so much. I almost feel as if I should apologize for taking your place.”
“I’m glad you like the job. Besides, I’m not sorry I spent time with Gran.” She rubbed her fist against the raw ache in her chest. “I’d better go or I’ll be late for work.”
“Where are you working?”
“I have a job in a shop in Newmarket,” Charlotte said. “It helps pay the bills.”
Jenny nodded. “That’s good. I’m sorry Mum kicked you out of the house.”
Because there’s no one to wait on her, Ms. Feisty said in a disgusted voice. Charlotte lifted one hand in a farewell. “See you.” Do we have to? Charlotte left without looking back. That was the best way. Forget the past, embrace the present, and let the future take care of itself.
* * * * *
“What’s he doing here?” Elizabeth demanded when Charlotte and Ash walked into the lawyer’s office.
“He’s here as my support,” Charlotte said.
“This is family only,” Elizabeth snapped, turning her displeasure on Mr. Batchelor.
“I’m Charlotte’s fiancé,” Ash said smoothly.
Elizabeth, Jenny and Rachel gaped at him. Charlotte feared her expression echoed theirs and hurriedly ordered her features to impassive.
“Congratulations,” Mr. Batchelor said. “Shall we get started?”
Ash guided Charlotte to a seat and dropped onto the one beside her.
“Ivy instructed me to read this letter to you under specific circumstances. She asked me to wait for at least a month after her funeral. Since Elizabeth has requested me to proceed with contesting the will, it’s time to read the letter.” He cleared his throat and commenced reading.
“‘Dear Elizabeth,
“I am confident you will contest my bequest to Charlotte. While Charlotte isn’t related by blood she is a granddaughter in my heart. She sacrificed her plans to go to university to look after me when I became sick and did so cheerfully without expecting anything in return. You treated her as an unpaid slave, but she put up with it because she loved me. I am forever grateful for her youthful company and unfailing good humor. In life I decided it was time for her to take a new direction instead of looking after me, and in death, I want to give her this bequest. She should have the means to follow her dream. If you and your brother and sister attempt to thwart my last wishes, I have instructed the lawyer to donate my entire estate to the Humane Society. Charlotte will, of course, receive her original bequest.
“Think hard before you act, Elizabeth, because this is not a threat. It’s a promise.
“Ivy McDougal’”
“She can’t do that,” Elizabeth snapped, an unflattering red flooding her cheeks.
“The letter is witnessed by a Justice of the Peace,” the lawyer said. “Either you withdraw your wishes to challenge the will or you forfeit everything.”
Elizabeth jumped to her feet, her glare raking them with fury. “You’re a scheming hussy,” she spat at Charlotte. “Don’t think I’ll forget about this. Girls, let’s go.”
Jenny followed her mother, but Rachel lingered.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Since you left home I’ve realized how much you did and how we took you for granted. Please accept my apologies. You deserve every cent of Gran’s bequest.”
“Thank you.” Charlotte stood and went to her stepsister, and for the first time in memory, they hugged.
“Thanks,” Rachel whispered and left to catch her mother and sister.
“Are you okay?” Ash murmured when she sat beside him again.
Charlotte nodded, fighting the press of emotion battering her. She missed Gran so much.
“I thought Elizabeth would capitulate.” Mr. Batchelor handed over an envelope. “There’s a trust check inside. I’ll require your signature as acknowledgement of receipt.”
Ash watched Charlotte take care of the formalities, aware of panic stirring in him. Now that she had the money, she could get her own place. What the hell was he gonna do if she moved out? Moved on?
Charlotte rose, and he was aware of the lawyer standing too. The meeting was over. With anxiety clinging to his shoulders, Ash climbed to his feet.
“What are you going to do with the money?” he asked as he maneuvered his car through traffic.
“I’m not sure yet.” She cocked her head, seeking his gaze. “Can I keep living with you? Did you want me to move out?”
“No, of course not.” Relief struck so hard, he closed his eyes for an instant. The honk of a horn startled him back to reality, and he stepped on the brakes to avoid the vehicle in front of him. “Hell. You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
With another curse, inward this time, he took the next left and drove along the waterfront to Mission Bay. He pulled up near the beach, and they stared out over the sea to Rangitoto Island. In comparison to the turmoil boiling in his gut, the sea was almost flat calm, the sails of a yacht flapping listlessly as the sailor attempted to maneuver it into a breeze.
“I want you to stay. I meant what I said this morning. I love you. I want to introduce you to my father.” He speared her with his gaze. “Marry me, Charlotte.”
His heart thumped so hard he wasn’t sure his chest would withstand the pressure. He’d asked one other woman to marry him, the engagement over a week later when he’d discovered—painfully—she coveted his money rather than him. He held no reservations with Charlotte, positive she didn’t care about his fortune, yet he had no idea if she’d say yes or no. The pause lengthened, his fears growing until they loomed over him in mythical monster fashion.
“We haven’t known each other for long.”
“My father and mother married after knowing each other for a week.” Please put me out of my misery. “I’m sure of my feelings for you.”
Her measuring look made him damn nervous. After another long pause, she shook her head. “Ash, it’s too soon. I like you a lot, but I don’t want to get married.”
Fuck. When did too soon tip over into the perfect moment? There was an irony here with dozens of women wanting him, and the one he chose didn’t want him in return. Damn, he refused to lose her. A sharp knock on the driver’s window jerked him around. Ash scowled at the man. A photographer—the two cameras hanging around his neck gave away his occupation. He opened the window. “What?”
“I heard a rumor you and Red are engaged. Is it true?” His gaze zeroed in on her hands, clasped in her lap. “She isn’t wearing a ring.”
“No comment,” Charl
otte said. “Ash, I need to get to work to relieve Maria. She has an important meeting.”
Ash nodded and shut the window. He backed from the parking space, ignoring the reporter to merge with the traffic. “Your family didn’t waste any time passing on the news.”
“The press has speculated about an engagement since the fashion parade.”
True, but they’d been wrong. He’d wanted Charlotte as his wife for much longer. Hell, there was no point dancing around the subject. “Have I spoiled things between us? What do you want to do now?”
Charlotte reached for his hand and squeezed briefly before releasing it. “Do we need to change anything? Couldn’t we continue just as we are?”
Relief tore through him briefly before his mind started to pick holes in her words. Old fears rose to cuff him before he could parry them. Charlotte was the one for him. He hadn’t mucked up totally and he wasn’t about to quit.
Back at the office, he scanned his messages. “Laura, I need to make a phone call. Make sure no one interrupts me for half an hour. After that, I’ll start the internal meetings.”
With his office door shut, he rang his father who lived in Wellington. “Dad,” he said when his father picked up.
“I was going to call you,” his father said. “Who is this Red stirring up the press? Why haven’t you rung me about your engagement?”
“Because she’s not my fiancée.” Determination straightened his shoulders. “Not yet.”
His father paused. “I see.”
Ash heard the understanding in his father’s voice and that was all he needed for his lingering fears to settle.
“When am I going to meet her?”
“Are you free this weekend? We’ll fly down for a visit.”
When he opened the door later that night, he discovered Charlotte in the kitchen. His breath hissed, relief making him lightheaded. Two steps into the room he came to an abrupt halt.
“Why, hello,” she purred.
The long line of her leg, encased in fishnet stockings drew his gaze and pumped up his confusion. When she bent over to retrieve a pot from a drawer, her short black skirt flipped up to reveal smooth, pale skin and a lack of panties. His mind groped to catch up. “Is this a special occasion?”
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